Part 16 (1/2)

As a result of this somewhat mystifying intelligence Wilmshurst entered the dug-out. Descending a flight of a dozen wooden steps he gained the ante-room, a s.p.a.ce fifteen feet in length and about seven in breadth.

It was absolutely proof against the heaviest gun employed in the German East campaign, while, as a safeguard against bombs that might be lobbed into their retreat, the door of the second room was protected by a wall of sandbags backed with ma.s.sive slabs of African teak.

By the aid of flaming brands held by the blacks Wilmshurst was able to make a rapid, but none the less complete examination of the shelter.

Evidently it was the headquarters dug-out, judging by the smashed telephone, the pile of broken instruments, and the heap of paper ash that littered the floor.

At the subaltern's order the blacks prodded the walls with their bayonets and hammered the floor with the b.u.t.t ends of their rifles, but no suspicion of the existence of a concealed ”funk-hole” was to be traced.

”Precious little here,” commented Wilmshurst. ”I'll have to keep the place open for the colonel's inspection, I suppose.”

Regaining the open air he posted a sentry over the entrance and, collecting the German prisoners, awaited the arrival of the C.O.

By this time all resistance on the summit of M'ganga was over. Away to the north-east came occasional reports of rifle-firing, showing that the Pathans and the Rhodesian horse were engaging the fugitives.

The one fly in the ointment was the escape of von Gobendorff. There was, of course, the possibility that he had been shot or had contrived to slip away during the action. In the latter case he had the cordon of troops to take into consideration; but knowing the wiliness of the man and the fluency with which he spoke English, Dudley began to feel rather dubious concerning the Hun's apprehension.

Otherwise the brilliant little affair was highly successful.

Practically the whole of von Linderfelt's staff had been either killed or captured; most of the Germans in the firing-line had shared a similar fate, while the surviving Askaris were either captured or had escaped in small numbers through the lines of the encircling forces.

Von Lindenfelt had not counted upon the use of light artillery against his strong position, but the fire of the mountain batteries, a.s.sisted by the seaplane's bombs, had proved terribly destructive. Of the 4.1-inch guns mounted for the defence not one remained intact, their destruction materially helping the Waffs in their frontal attack. A considerable quant.i.ty of military stores also fell into the hands of the victors, much of the booty being found upon examination to have been sent to German East Africa during the last three months.

As a result of the operation a large hostile column operating in the neighbourhood of the Rovuma had ceased to exist. There were other roving forces still in the district, and against these the Haussas were to operate in conjunction with other detachments.

”It's all right when we catch Fritz sitting,” remarked Spofforth. ”The trouble is that he strongly objects to be caught. We'll have to chase him from the Rovuma to Kilimanjaro and back before we square up this business.”

”And, even then, corner him in Cape Town,” added Danvers facetiously.

”I can see myself spending my seventieth birthday on this job.”

CHAPTER XIII

THE FUGITIVE

On the evening of the capture of M'ganga a white man, fatigued and desperately hungry, stood irresolute upon the banks of the Kiwa River, roughly forty miles from the scene of the Waffs' successful operations.

It would have been a difficult matter to recognise in the jaded man the once well-set-up individual known in certain quarters as Robert MacGregor; nor was there much resemblance between the fugitive and the German secret service agent, Ulrich von Gobendorff--yet the man was none other than he whom the officers of the Haussa regiment particularly wished to lay by the heels.

By a series of hair-breadth escapes von Gobendorff had succeeded in making his way past the Pathan infantry picquets. For twenty minutes he had crouched up to his neck in the miasmatic waters of a forest pool, with thousands of mosquitoes buzzing round his unprotected head, while a patrol of the Rhodesian Light Horse halted within twenty yards of his place of concealment.

And now, with a strip of linen tied round his head, a ragged cotton s.h.i.+rt, a pair of ”shorts” that were hardly any protection from the th.o.r.n.y cacti, and a pair of badly-worn ”veldt schoen” as the sum total of his clothing and footgear von Gobendorff awaited the fall of night in the depths of a tropical forest.

His limbs were covered with scratches that were causing him intense pain and irritation; his face was swollen under the attacks of mosquitoes, until his bloodshot eyes were hardly visible above his puffed up cheeks. Unarmed with the exception of an automatic pistol, he was about to brave the dangers of a night 'midst malarial mists and wild beasts of an African forest.

As the sun sank von Gobendorff collected a heap of wood and leaves and kindled a fire. For the present he judged that he was practically free from pursuit. In any case he would take the risk of lighting a fire.

It was not likely that British patrols would be wandering through the dense tropical vegetation during the hours of darkness.

Under the wide-spreading branches of a baobab the Hun was able to make one fire serve his purpose. Ordinarily he would have lighted three or four at a distance of five or six yards from each other, and thus found comparative immunity from the attacks of lions and hippos, but the baobab--it reminded him of a certain incident when he was ”attached” to the Haussas--was able to protect both rear and flank from the voracious a.s.saults of any four-footed creatures.

As the fire blazed brightly von Gobendorff consumed his last ration--a small cube of highly-concentrated food, which he had in his possession on the development of the attack on M'ganga. Throughout his flight, although tormented with the pangs of hunger, he had resolutely refused to draw upon his scanty commissariat. And now it was eaten: for the rest of his journey he would have to depend upon his wits to obtain food. Rather grimly he reflected that an automatic .302, although an efficient ”man-stopper” in a _melee_, was not to be compared with a rifle as a means of procuring food.